Empty Bottle
by gaffer42
Summary: Inspired by SG1 Message in a Bottle. In which I am beastly to both Sheppard and McKay. Hey it's what I do.... Team fic, though. Really. 2 parts
1. Chapter 1

_Written as a present for a friend. Reference to SG1's episode "Message in a Bottle". What if the bottle were empty?_

**Empty Bottle**

The gateroom looked different from up here.

Hanging there, a fresh dose of painkiller wending its magic way through his veins, McKay took a second to admire the perfect design of the place. The way it was now, with so many in it; by the design of the original architect, all the astonished, alarmed, concerned faces were perfectly, randomly spaced. Even the small groups were scattered artfully around. The upturned eyes merged into the overall effect.

Somehow, once the pain was out of the equation, his situation was more an adventure than something that alarmed him. It was a bit of a kick realizing that Jack O'Neill had been in approximately the same situation, if in different surroundings. Maybe it was a side effect of the impending alien possession that had him feeling so unconcerned. By all accounts, once Dr. Frasier had let the refugees that populated the artifact take over O'Neill's body, the creatures had negotiated, released O'Neill unharmed, and gone on their merry way. The unharmed bit was what he was most interested in.

He'd read the SG1 incident report, and had realized what the artifact that Lorne's team had found was, at approximately the same time Zelenka had made the connection. This one had a markedly different shape but the glyphs were identical. Evidently the beings that created them had hedged their bets, spreading their seed far and wide. He grinned slightly. Like the Ancients.

It wasn't their first choice, of course, to have the darn thing seed Atlantis. He and Zelenka had dumped it in a blast proof box, once they'd ID'd it firmly, and headed for the gateroom, calling ahead for it to be dialed to a space-based gate and opened. They'd felt the thing quivering, and just as they'd gotten to the bottom step it had blown.

Zelenka hadn't been hit. Everyone had avoided the twenty or so skewers that had fired out and impacted various places, missing Elisabeth's office but ruining some very nice stain glass doors and going through walls and into the ceiling. They were all pretty much exactly the same length, too, like a child's painting of the sun, and at least three of them were left poking through walls and interrupting the flow of traffic in the halls on the other side.

Everyone had ducked. Except himself, of course. Somehow, his keenly honed sense of self- preservation had deserted him, and he'd spent an extra second yelling "Duck! Now!" that seemed to make the difference between – well – ducking, and not ducking.

There had been a feeling of incredible pressure, a sense of movement blurring his vision, and when his sight cleared he had this wonderful new viewpoint. It had been interesting, for roughly twenty seconds. Then the pain had started.

Beckett had told him he'd been caught through the left shoulder, right through the blade, and the right side of his pelvic bone. Nothing important was hit, but where he was it had been almost fifteen long minutes until someone was able to reach him with anything that would ease it. He had almost immediately realized he'd been pinned to the front of the balcony he'd had Sheppard push him off, so long ago. The gods of Pegasus evidently had an ironic sense of humour.

Being stuck there didn't mean he was without some comfort, though. True to his nature, Sheppard had immediately flown a jumper down, managed a tricky maneuver that brought it in under his dangling feet, and it had been only a few lonely moments before he'd heard reassuring voices in his ear, had a hand to grasp against the agony of impalement, known again what had supplanted his own supreme self confidence as the core of his being – here, people liked him. They knew him better than anyone ever had, all his strengths and weaknesses, and despite them, or maybe because of them, they liked him anyway.

And again, he flinched, bit his lip, and someone he was pretty certain was Sheppard latched onto his good hand and shoulder and didn't let go.

xxxxx

Dex had, long ago, mastered the art of waiting. Teyla, he noticed, not so much.

She wandered the gateroom, up the stairs and down, covering the whole area in a circuit that took some time to complete. The third time around, though, he reached out and caught her arm. She freed herself with a quick motion and spun to face him, angrily. He met her gaze neutrally, and her expression eased.

"Wandering doesn't help," he said quietly. "It tires you, and does nothing for him." He shifted over on the step he'd claimed, creating a spot between him and the baluster, protected from the traffic up and down by his bulk, and looked up.

She hesitated, balanced on the balls of her feet almost as if anticipating an attack.

"Sit down," he clarified.

She sighed and joined him.

"I...am not good at waiting." she admitted.

"Noticed." he said dryly.

She was seated, but not still - turning to look up, craning to peer down, gaze continually returning to McKay - or what she could see of him. Sheppard was up there, back to them, with Beckett.

"Never met anyone like McKay before," he offered, hoping conversation would distract her,

feeling the need of it himself.

"He is a very complex individual," she agreed.

"I'd about dismissed him, first time I met him. As far as I could tell, he never did anything but complain and brag about how smart he is."

He left it hanging, hoping he'd interested her enough to ask the logical question.

"What changed your mind?"

He permitted himself a small smile.

"When I got hit by the arrow on the penal colony, even before Sheppard said anything, McKay was looking out for me. He made the same decisions I would have made in his position, he kept us alive until we could escape."

He leaned back, elbows on the steps above.

"It took a while, but I realized he is as smart as he says he is. And I realized he'd do anything for any of us." He chuckled. "He might complain the whole time, but whenever we need him, he's always there."

She managed a tiny smile. "We must do the same," she agreed. "For me, it was a single, brave act..."

She went on to tell a tale of a shadow monster that threatened the city. He was grateful for her words to concentrate on, though, and for the first time he could recall he wished his hearing wasn't so keen.

Sheppard had danced the jumper in under McKay with finesse, threading the loosely laced spikes and finding gaps Dex never thought it would navigate. He'd spent the important, first minutes with his friend until Beckett and his crew arrived, then organized the platform's construction. Once it had been declared secure, he'd climbed the ladder, and been there since. A more or less constant, reassuring mutter was interspersed with small noises coming from above that made his eyes tighten in sympathy.

He realized Teyla had concluded the story, and nodded. "I heard about that," he said. It had been Sheppard who had told him, actually, the second evening he'd been on Atlantis. He recalled making some snide comment about the scientist, and Sheppard had pulled him aside, calmly told him that McKay was part of the team and therefore due respect. He recalled looking at the Colonel in astonishment. 'He's weak.' he'd said flatly, but then he'd heard the story, and he'd seen McKay offworld. He'd found Sheppard a couple of weeks later and simply commented 'Now I see why you take him with you.' Sheppard had smiled, a genuine grin, and that was the end of it.

He realized the silence had stretched. Teyla was looking at him, and there was concern in her eyes.

"Can you...hear?"

He nodded briefly. "They're scared, but covering. Supposedly this has happened before, but there seems to be something different this time."

"And Rodney?"

"In pain." he said succinctly. "Whatever Beckett is using doesn't seem to last."

She looked up, frowned. "The Colonel seems very shaken."

He followed her gaze. It was an understatement. He could hear, and see, and he knew Sheppard was on the edge.

"Sheppard and McKay, they're close," he said, something else that had surprised him, and she smiled faintly.

"Like brothers." she agreed. "Goodness knows they fight like them."

"Unlikely friends."

"The same could be said of you and I," she reminded. "Or of the four of us."

He raised his chin. "I like them," he said defiantly. "I like you, I like it here and I'll fight for this city."

She understood. He knew she would.

"It has been a long time, has it not, since you have been able to say that?" She smiled at him, and he felt acceptance from her. The others had not grown up with the Wraith threat as she had, and though they were part of a team it was something that bound the two of them.

"A long time," he agreed. He heard a whimper, and a cracking voice trying to give comfort.

Teyla saw his face change.

"Sheppard needs a break," he said. "He's been up there too long."

She blinked at the topic change, but nodded. "I will relieve him."

"I'll bully him into eating something, and make sure he's doing all right, then come back and relieve you."

She nodded and stood, gracefully.

"Teyla."

She glanced down.

"We'll take care of him," he said quietly. "We'll be with him all the way."

She nodded, lips tight, and headed to the jumper.

xxxxx

There had been hammering, and voices, but there had been a constant – he heard Sheppard, responded when he could, and then Beckett had started an IV and the analgesic had begun to flow. It helped, and he'd drifted, rousing slightly when they'd rigged a harness on him to take his weight off the wounds.

Now, feeling for all the world like a child in a Jolly Jumper, he gazed blearily around the room. Dex was with him now, Teyla had been there before, Sheppard had been with him first. He knew they were taking turns only since there wasn't enough room for them all to be there at once.

His eyes had drifted shut of their own accord. He pried them open again. The runner was regarding him with an expression that anyone else, who hadn't learned how to read the man, would call blank. He recognized it as worried.

"How long?" his voice was hoarse, and Dex held a canteen up, allowing the bare sip Beckett had

approved.

"Three hours." he replied. "I was told by Dr. Zelenka that this has happened before, on your planet?"

"Years ago," he said, adding distractedly "Too long."

Dex cocked his head, reminding him of a dog he once had. Maybe it was the dreadlocks, he mused. But there was something that worried him – apart from being spiked to the wall like a dead butterfly, that was. Oh. Right.

"It's been too long. Aliens..." he winced, the painkillers were wearing off more and more rapidly, and Dex grasped his hand, the motion smooth from unfortunate practice. He knew it was a bad idea to move, it wasn't even his own idea but his body's response to the foreign objects. Intellectually, he knew it. But still, he couldn't help twisting against the spikes, and it made the pain blossom like an obscene flower. Dex held steady, though, he could hear the reassuring rumble of the bass voice in his ear and the carefully strong grip never wavered.

xxxxx

He'd learned to be careful; sparring or simply shaking hands, he couldn't use his full strength.

Dex found the humans around him not as physically strong as his own people, but immensely strong in other ways. On his world, there was a decided divide between those the Atlanteans would call scientists, and those who were like him, the warriors. Here, the line was much more obscured.

He'd gone into a research dome one time, on a learning trip, a break from his studies of war and tactics, and the soft people there had almost made his skin crawl. They never saw the sun, it seemed, their hands were manicured and seemed weak, but they controlled forces that could be stunning in their destructive power. They'd been warned against making unpleasant comments, and afterward he was glad the instructors had taken the time to do that. At first glance he'd been unable to understand how anyone could respect these frail excuses for beings. After the tour, he realized that the mind could be as powerful as the body, and it had made him wonder - why had no one ever tried to merge the two? If the thinkers were the mind, and the fighters were the body, wouldn't it make more sense to bring the groups closer together? He'd made the suggestion. It had gone over very badly. He hadn't cried from the thrashing, but it had made his sparring exercises very uncomfortable for a few days.

Here, though, he found his ideas had been justified. The strength of the humans stemmed from using both mind and body in harmony. The team he'd joined was a prime example of it. The simplest way of looking at it - McKay was the mind, he and Sheppard and Teyla were the body. And just as the body would protect an injured limb, favouring it or supporting it, they were here to protect and support McKay.

As strong as Dex was, McKay's grip was noticeable, and he knew it was an outward manifestation of the pain he was in. It wasn't a small thing, this. He knew McKay would whine and complain about a splinter, or a bumped elbow, but when it came to something truly dire he was as contained and disciplined as anyone he'd ever met. This was just another example.

Dex had been shot through bone before, knew how it felt when the shaft shifted, how the nerves of the bone's sheath reacted to the sensations they were never meant to receive. He held on to the man's free hand, letting McKay grip it as tightly as he needed, and glanced down at Sheppard, who was speaking with two of the technicians who had been on Earth when the same thing had happened. Sheppard glanced up, and Dex jerked his head, beckoning.

Sheppard nodded, and tapped Beckett on the shoulder as he passed, making for the ladder to the jumper platform.

"Don' want. Hurt you." McKay gasped, flexing his hand and easing his grip a fraction.

"You can't hurt me, Rodney. You can hang on as hard as you need to."

Blue eyes canted up to meet his. "Called me Rodn'y." he grated, trying to smile. "Can't be good."

"Means 'steel trap mind' in the language of the Syphin." he replied, grinning. "Good name for you."

"Really?" Interest kindled behind the glazed eyes.

"Would I lie to you?" He felt Sheppard climbing. "What was that you were saying about it being too long?"

"Aliens should've come out…" he writhed again, and Dex heard Sheppard calling Beckett, felt the Colonel step up to stand by his friend, taking the hand of the trapped arm lightly. Dex couldn't do it without hurting McKay, nor could Teyla, but Sheppard had the knack, and the deathgrip on his own hand eased a bit. McKay opened his mouth, but words didn't form, only a moan that the runner found hard to hear. From Sheppard's expression, though, his friend's pain had become his own.

"Take it easy." Dex directed, not certain who he was encouraging more. "Sheppard, Rodney is concerned that the aliens haven't shown up yet. How long did it take for O'Neill?" He saw in the Colonel's eyes that the same question had occurred to the others.

"You're right." Sheppard said. He was trying to keep the worry from his voice, with little success. "Rodney, we're analyzing the artifact, but there's a chance there are no aliens left alive. It was heavily irradiated at some point."

There was a look of fear in McKay's eyes, now, and that was new. Dex stared at Sheppard, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"If the aliens don't possess him, they can't manipulate the lifeboat. They can't retract the skewers, or heal McKay. And we haven't been able to cut through any of these damn things."


	2. Chapter 2

**Empty Bottle part 2**

Weir couldn't help looking out the office window. McKay was barely visible, surrounded by medics who had displaced his friends. His blood pressure had dropped, drastically, and there had been evidence a clot had formed and broken loose, and was possibly moving through his body. The three team members had gravitated to the conference room to join the brain trust. They'd been assured that Beckett would contact them when they could re-join McKay on the top of the jumper, but she was hoping the solution would be discovered before that was needed.

She'd recalled Daedelus from the scouting mission as soon as they'd realized the message in this particular bottle was blank. Hermoid had immediately begun searching the Asgard records for information, and they were due back in a couple hours.

She squinted, saw the physicist for a fraction of a second. He seemed unconscious, and she felt a flash of gratitude. She'd taken a turn on top of the jumper, a few moments. It had been chilling how quickly the painkiller had worn off, and she'd found, again, how comforting the oldest painkiller of all - simple physical contact - could be.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the conference room.

"...can't seriously consider surgery?" an unfamiliar voice rose above the babble. "If it doesn't kill him, he'll be crippled!"

"The problem is two." Zelenka stood, raised his voice. "Get Rodney free. Get pod out of gateroom, and part of that is getting skewers out of walls. Which can be related to first problem, too." Confused, obviously that wasn't exactly how he'd meant to say it, he sat, muttering in his own language.

"We know that application of energy, electrically based in particular, lengthens the skewers." a tall, black man wearing a Union Jack flag patch said. "But nothing - heat, cold, grounding - causes them to retract."

"The main pod is lifeless." Biro added. "Whatever was living there is long dead."

"But there's evidence of some sort of energy source inside." Kavanagh spoke up. "Maybe a self destruct? If we manage to free McKay, will it detonate? Isn't that a hazard to the city and its population?"

There was an ugly murmur, and she was going to say something, but Sheppard beat her to it.

"It's a valid concern, people. McKay raised it with me earlier - when he was still able to talk," and he met the man's gaze evenly. "He told me the safety of the city and of its people was paramount. That being said, let's work from the assumption we're not going to let it kill him, shall we?"

His voice had an unfamiliar, brittle quality, and she saw Dex and Teyla move nearer to him, almost protectively.

Kavanagh's lips thinned, but he nodded. "Understood." he said simply.

"Ring technology?" someone said into the silence. "When will Daedelus be in range? Ring him up, remove the skewers. Once he's out of the equation, we'd have more time to work on the rest of it. Or maybe the Asgard beam?"

"Rings might work, but they do have limitations. They phase through material, but the Tok'ra say they've found they can't get through some things." It was someone new, direct from the SGC, that said that, and Weir knew she should know the woman's name.

"We'd need to test it somehow. An interrupted ringing can kill whoever's being transported, just as anything that interrupts the beam can be fatal."

"Good, Sarah. Take technicians, create test. Come back as soon as possible." Zelenka ran his hand through his hair.

"Need test for beam, too."

"I'll get on it." Kavanagh said unexpectedly, but Zelenka shook his head.

"Need you on the artifact. You are best mechanical engineer. Best chance to remove pod and skewers with no explosion."

Kavanagh looked surprised, but nodded.

xxxxx

The man was worse than Teyla, Dex realized, as he saw the satellite that was John Sheppard orbit the gateroom again. Because no one but medics were allowed on the jumper right now, the colonel spent a few moments at the foot of the ladder. He'd climb the stairs, check in on the status of the test preparations, stop by the control panels and see where Daedelus was, then return to the balcony and update the physicist. How much McKay could hear was open to interpretation, but there was often a small reaction to Sheppard's voice – a tilt of his head, a hand reaching for another.

At least Beckett was up there.

The doctor was another enigma in some ways. Where Dex had been trained, they were taught that the medics were infallible, hardly even the same species as the warriors. Never to be questioned, never to be resisted. Never to befriend. But both Sheppard and McKay called Beckett friend, and he himself had begun to wave the man over in the mess hall, and grin at him in passing in the hallways. There had been talk of a game named poker. Teyla had told him the basics, that it was a game of betting and bluffing, and he knew he'd be good at it. It was something he'd had seven years experience with.

Teyla was sitting beside him again. She seemed to be meditating, she was staring straight ahead, face neutral.

Something else he'd like to learn more about, he mused.

"Daedelus is on the sensors!" Sheppard called. "Carson, tell McKay that they're almost here."

xxxxx

"No ringing." Zelenka said blankly, staring at the image being transmitted. The test subject had been merged with the skewer, scans showed the material laced through the bone's very cells, through the longer cells of the muscle tissue. It had been an inert sample, and it was just as well, for nothing could have lived through it. They had moved the tests to another spike. One remained after that with easy access.

Weir saw Sheppard in the back of the conference room, arms crossed, face blank, Teyla and Ronon bracketing him

in unconscious support, as had become their habit.

"We must try beam tech. Sarah, set up new test on balcony spike."

The conversation turned to other ways and means, and people started moving into groups. Weir caught another glimpse of the three, retreating.

She knew where they were going.

xxxxx

They'd made him as comfortable as they could, but Beckett was walking the everlasting tightrope - painkillers depressed already compromised systems, but the pain was exhausting for his patient.

They'd busted the clot sonically, and McKay was now on the highest dose of blood thinner they dared, monitoring the oozing of the wounds, managing yet another tightrope act.

The cervical collar supported McKay's head, and he'd managed to doze a bit, generally just after a dose, and when he knew his friends were close by. Another half-hour had passed as the beam technology was rapidly tested, with indifferent results. Inert samples translated satisfactorily, but their only live subject - a mouse - was simply too small. As Sarah had said "Mouse – two inches thick. Spike – two inches thick. Won't work, guys." And now they had to find an alternative, or simply beam him and hope.

xxxxx

"We have to make a decision soon." Beckett snapped over the com. "Much longer, and he'll be far too weak to for surgery. If he's to have half a chance, we need to know now."

Sheppard was on his own, now, in a corner. Dex had found a spot near the control area that was within earshot – for him at least – of everything interesting, and was listening in to the conversations. Absently, Sheppard thought they should really get the man his own com. Beckett had beckoned Teyla to join him on the platform. She took up a lot less room than either he did, or Dex, and she was singing softly to McKay, something quiet and calming.

Sarah was responding, something about getting a test subject from the mainland. Hermoid was on the com as well. Quietly, he wandered over to Zelenka, who stood miserably by the pod.

"Do you trust me, Radek?"

The Czech started, Sheppard's voice pulling him from what had to be dark thoughts. He nodded, but said nothing, staring at the pilot.

"Good. Give me a couple minutes, then juice that skewer," he pointed "and make it grow. On my mark."

Radek looked over at the indicated spike, the one the experiments hadn't touched yet, traveled its length to the wall. He blinked, running through the possible reasons for the request, arriving at the logical - but almost unbelievable - answer.

"You're crazy." he said flatly.

Sheppard shook his head.

"Nope. Just desperate." He managed an approximation of his usual grin, but couldn't keep from looking up to the top of the jumper, to his dying friend.

"Radek. Please. Trust me," he insisted, knowing his fear was showing, realizing he didn't care.

Finally, reluctantly, the scientist nodded.

xxxxx

He didn't let his mind wander, avoided anticipation, for that way lay panic - avoided retrospection, for that way lay a deep, primal fear. His decision had been made, as he told Zelenka, out of desperation. The thought of the physicist crippled, or worse, dead, froze something deep inside. It hurt him profoundly. There was something he could do about it, though, and with no regrets or second thoughts; he simply headed for the hallway that ran behind the wall the skewer he'd indicated, knowing that it terminated just beyond. It was protruding into the passageway about seven inches, a silvery bar almost two inches in diameter. He ran the ball of his thumb over the end, feeling the sharp tip. Deliberately, he laid his palm over it, nerving himself, then tapped his com.

"Now." he said quietly.

"Stop!"

It was Dex's voice. Startled, Sheppard swung to look behind him, releasing the spike and inadvertently presenting a larger target. It lengthened, as he knew it would, but instead of piercing his palm it caught him just above the elbow, slamming him into the wall so hard he saw stars.

He didn't lose consciousness, not quite. He lingered for a moment in a soft fog, hearing Dex approach, then his knees gave way and his body weight jerked on the impaled arm. He screamed, trying to stand straight, squirming against the rod like a worm on a hook, and then Dex was there, supporting him until he could lock his knees. Panting, Sheppard slitted his eyes open and nodded at the runner, but Dex didn't release him. After a second Sheppard realized he didn't want him to. The pain didn't settle, didn't ease, and he had an inkling of how their presence and touch might have helped McKay.

"How'd you..." he started.

"Same idea." Dex said, shrugging. "They needed a big test subject. I heal faster than you, but you moved faster than

I thought you would."

Sheppard tried to grin. "Need to know...bone..." It was key. If the skewer hadn't hit the bone the experiment was a failure.

"Hang on." Without releasing the Colonel, Dex reached over and grasped Sheppard's elbow, moving it slightly. He'd timed it for when Sheppard was breathing out, and the cry of pain was short, lack of breath making him gray out again.

"That would be a yes." he muttered, and tapped Sheppard's com.

"Daedelus. Move Sheppard to Atlantis's infirmary."

He stepped back and watched as the beam took him, then took off himself, running as fast as he ever had.

xxxxx

Even so, by the time he made it through the door, the well-trained medics were already working on the Colonel. And Sheppard had obviously underestimated the shock to his system - though it would have been less if he'd only been caught by his hand, Dex had to admit - he was only semi-conscious and though he was trying his best, he wasn't getting his message out.

"Someone tell Beckett it works!" Dex roared, but the people grouped around Sheppard didn't look up. Growling, Dex shouldered past the doctor, shoved the scanner aside and grabbed Sheppard's com. He caught sight of the length of skewer lying in a tray, about four inches long. The beam had clipped it neatly at the surface of the skin. It was bloody, but he ran his fingers over it and found it smooth. Nothing had been left behind. He held the com to his own ear, tapping it as he'd seen Sheppard do.

"Hey. Someone."

"Ronon?" It was Weir. "Where are you? Where's John?"

"Infirmary." he said succinctly. "Tell Beckett the beam works."

"'What?" Disbelief made her voice sharp.

"Okay, tell Beckett to call Hoffman and HE can tell Beckett it works. Worry about how we know

later."

There was a second's pause, then Hoffman began speaking on a channel Dex couldn't hear. Sighing, he removed the com, fitting it gently back in Sheppard's ear. Dazed eyes met his, and he nodded slightly, waiting.

There was a flash. McKay appeared, free, crumpling into the arms that waited for him.

"He's here." Dex assured his commanding officer, who managed a smile. The need to know had been the only thing keeping him awake.

xxxxx

Given that the beam worked, Kavanagh had covered the pod in a blast-containing polymer and directed it be beamed into space. Once it had materialized, it did explode, in a fairly impressive show of fireworks.

The remaining spikes had lost their starch and dropped limply to the floor, to be pulled, unresisting, from the walls. The holes were patched up, the broken glass cleaned up and the gaps boarded. They'd tried to remove the bloodstains, with moderate success.

Weir nodded to the night shift, closed her office door. She'd been in constant contact with the infirmary, kept regularly updated on the progress there as she'd supervised the progress here. Her job here was done. She could now join the others.

Sheppard's actions had shocked her, but in retrospect they didn't surprise her. She knew his first instinct was to protect his people, it was part of what made him the commander he was. She could even follow the logic that made him do what he did, but it still made her gut clench. Deliberately subjecting himself to that, with no assurance he'd be freed… She sighed, stepped into the transporter, and touched her destination.

xxxxx

Teyla woke instantly at the nudge. She was sleeping as she did on missions, lightly, and on alert.

"Sheppard's awake." Dex said. "It's the middle of the night. Come on."

"Dr. Weir…"

"She left a few hours ago, Carson told her they'll both be fine. Let her sleep. Come on."

They headed into the ward, and came in on the end of a discussion.

"…same thing as the problem with the mouse," Beckett was saying. "Him startling you may have saved your hand."

"Huh?" Dex asked, moving to Beckett's side.

"Looks like your timing was right after all." Sheppard said. His voice was gravelly, tired, but he looked less on edge.

"You likely saved the Colonel from having his hand damaged beyond repair." Beckett elaborated. "There are so many small bones in the hand and wrist, it would have taken an expert to put everything together again. And that is if that thing hadn't just turned your hand to a red spot on the wall. Going through your arm, it did the least damage it could."

"You're welcome," Dex grinned, and Sheppard managed a smile back.

"Now. You'd asked earlier about McKay. Several times."

"You said he was alive…" Sheppard started, and Beckett held up his hand.

"Absolutely. And he will recover." he confirmed. "But it will take time."

"We will help in any way we can." Teyla said instantly.

"What she said." Dex agreed.

Beckett smiled. "He's in isolation for now, I didn't want to take a chance with infection, but if everything's ok tomorrow morning I'll bring him back in here. It would be good to have you here."

xxxxx

He'd been here before. Far too many times for his liking.

Hearing, for him, was usually the first sense to return, and he had become expert at telling where he was just from the sounds. He heard voices, nearby. Familiar, they tugged at him, helping him resist the desire to sleep again.

Smell was often the second sense, and the faint hospital scent overlaid with the all-pervasive tang of the sea told him he was on Atlantis, in the infirmary.

Touch was muffled, and he wasn't able to move much. The metallic taste in the back of his throat spoke of a painkiller, probably fairly recently administered.

Sight.

He pried his eyes open, waited patiently until he focused on the beams overhead, recognizing them. The voices continued and he turned his head, frowning slightly, seeing Sheppard in the next bed with Dex in a chair at their feet and Teyla, cross-legged, on the bottom corner. When had Sheppard been hurt? And how bad was it?

He struggled, trying to turn, to reach out, and Dex saw him. He seemed to know McKay's concern, for he nodded.

"Don't worry, he's fine. It's a long story, we'll tell you later…"

"You were very badly hurt, Rodney, and we were unable to release you." Teyla came off the bed. "We had done many tests, but we could not tell if the beam technology could release you without causing further injury. Colonel Sheppard arranged to be impaled so the beam could be tested on him."

Sheppard glared at her, as Dex sat.

"Maybe not such a long story." he muttered.

He stared at the three, trying to comprehend. His head was muzzy, but as he worked through what he'd heard, his ire rose. They were watching him, and he had an uneasy feeling they could almost read his thoughts.

John. Deliberately caused himself to be injured. As a test subject.

"We have comprehension." Sheppard said softly.

"Sheppard!" he said with as much force as he could muster. Fury was a wonderful head-clearer.

Dex stood again. "And now I think it's time for us to leave." he said, moving the chair out of the way.

Teyla nodded. "Do not be too hard on him, Rodney," she said kindly. "It was really the only way. And it might have been Dex, except the Colonel had the idea first."

xxxxx

Sheppard couldn't recall seeing McKay this angry. Ever. There had been spats, arguments, discussions, but the physicist was literally shaking with fury, and the heart monitor, sound off for quiet, was doing a remarkable impression of a sawblade.

"Rodney, I thought it through…" he started, trying to be the voice of reason, but McKay cut him off.

"You thought! You are not a guinea pig, Colonel. You die, what happens? Who protects the city? Lorne? He's good, but he doesn't have your instincts, your knowledge. You might have been able to make an argument about expendability when you were a major, Colonel, but you're a Colonel! And you're my friend, too, damnit, which makes you less expendable – I haven't got so many of those that I can afford to lose them!"

His face was red, the monitor had called a nurse in, but she paused when Sheppard caught her eye and gestured. He sat, swung his legs over the bed and made his way to McKay's bedside.

"McKay. Take it easy or they're gonna sedate you again." He sat on the edge, shifted his arm in the sling a bit, and reached out for McKay's good hand. It had become such a habit, when he was still trapped, that it seemed a natural motion.

The scientist snatched it away. "What is it about you that you think you can solve everything?" he demanded.

"Overwhelming arrogance? That wonderful sense that 'I'm Sheppard, I'm descended from Ancients, I'm invulnerable'?" He reached up, tentatively, belying his words, and touched the bandage on Sheppard's shoulder. The Colonel could see his friend's anger was ebbing; the monitor was far less active than before. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed the nurse retreating, knowing it wasn't a medical issue now.

"I know I'm not invulnerable." he said quietly, tried for McKay's hand again. This time, the scientist didn't pull away. "But we had to do something. The alternative was surgery, and Beckett thinks it would have crippled you. If you'd lived through it. I couldn't have lived with that, knowing I could have made a difference and I didn't because I was scared." He shrugged his good shoulder. "Besides, Zelenka figured it would probably work. There had been some tests run already."

McKay's anger hadn't entirely run its course, but he was weak, still, and he let his head fall back to the pillow again. He eyed Sheppard. "Repeat after me. 'I am not expendable.'"

Sheppard grinned, reached over and adjusted the monitor cable. It had slipped under the wounded shoulder and would be uncomfortable, he knew.

"Say it, damn you." McKay said flatly. The effort of losing his temper had been draining, but he still had his determination, and Sheppard sat for a long moment.

Was he expendable? He was military, and to his mind it meant of course he was. But it was his duty to live as long as he could, too, to pass on what he knew, to teach others, to protect.

And he was a man. He had his own code of conduct, his own priorities, and one of his main reasons for living, now, was to make certain his friends were safe, as happy as possible, and had the opportunity to grow old. If it meant sacrifice, especially for someone he now considered dearer than a brother, so be it.

But McKay was staring at him, and they were just words after all.

"I'm not expendable."

McKay didn't release his gaze. "Now say it and mean it."

And he stared at his friend, remembered what they had been through together, and he found he had an answer.

"I'm no more expendable than you are."

McKay held the gaze a moment more, then closed his eyes. "That'll do for now."

Sheppard gripped the warm hand firmly, tucked it under the sheet and pulled the covers up.

It wasn't over, this discussion. But at least they had a common frame of reference. He crawled into his bed, slid under the covers and was asleep almost instantly


End file.
